


I Miss Our Little Talks

by Wywrd_Artemis



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream Team RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Dream Smp, Dream goes to jail, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Therapy, captain puffy is the one true god of dsmp, does puffy have a license for therapy or is she just vibing, literally just me being feral, mentions of attempted murder, not betad we die like dream to tommy uwu, papa puffy, sympathetic c!dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wywrd_Artemis/pseuds/Wywrd_Artemis
Summary: Going to prison will not let you escape from therapy.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream
Comments: 17
Kudos: 290





	I Miss Our Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer; yeah character!dream is a jerk and he's definitely done some awful stuff. that said, i really like how all of the characters on dsmp are morally grey, so i thought i'd write a fic abt dream from that angle! just for the hell of it! ouo that said, if sympathetic c!dream makes you uncomfortable, no hard feelings, but this probably isn't the fic for you. hope i'll see you on the next fic, though!

“Why are you here?”

The question came after nearly ten minutes of silence, spoken with empty venom and a resigned sort of weakness. The man did not lift his head when he spoke, staring blankly at the mask in his hands.

On the other side of the bars, Puffy smiled, although subdued sadness hung about her like dew on blades of grass. “I already told you, Dream,” she said softly, clasping her hands together. “I was given permission to meet with you for a therapy appointment.”

Dream scoffed, turning to face the wall of cold, black obsidian. “I meant why you’re _really_ here,” he said, his words bitter and cold.

Puffy leaned forward in her chair, picking her words carefully. “Well, why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know,” Dream said. He was tense, like a tightly wound string, like any moment he would break. “But I know it’s not to _help_ me. I’m not a fucking idiot. The only reason I’m in here and not dead is because I know how to bring people back. If it weren’t for that, I’d be dead.” His head snapped to look at Puffy, eyes narrowed accusingly. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re trying to get me to trust you, so I’ll tell you how to do it. So no one needs me anymore. So you can kill me.”

Puffy sighed, taking a deep breath. “No. Believe it or not, I’m here to help. You’ve done some objectively horrible things. But you’re still a _person_. A person who cut off all their friends, who sabotaged every relationship, who abandoned everything they cared about, all on purpose. Someone who is okay doesn’t do those sort of things,” she said, keeping her tone calm and slow.

Dream didn’t relax, but the anger in his eyes faded, and he turned away again. It was jarring to see someone who had been so full of confidence and strength laid so low. He barely seemed to have the energy to hold up his head, let alone hold on to any flash of anger. “I was doing what I had to,” he said.

Puffy leaned back in her chair, waiting. When he didn’t elaborate, she prompted him gently. “Why do you feel like you had to do that?”

Dream turned his mask over in his hands, scratching at the edge of the flaking painted smile with his thumbnail. “Attachments get in my way.”

“How so?” Puffy said softly.

Dream fell still, his expression as unreadable as the mask he held. “How am I supposed to be in control if I’m thinking about Sapnap or George? What if somebody threatened to hurt them, or destroyed the community house, just to get to me? When I blew up the community house, it guaranteed no one could ever use it against me. If I get attached to something, it’s like... it becomes a weapon that could be used against me. And no matter how much armor or potions I bring, that’s a weapon that can still cut through.” He ran his thumb along the side of the mask, and it was clear that his mind was somewhere far away. “Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong, because I’m not. When I threatened to kill Tubbo, Tommy gave up everything. The disks, his armor, he just did whatever I told him. I know it’s fucked up, it’s manipulative, whatever. But I did all this so that would never be me. So I’d never be the one who’s powerless.”

Puffy glanced around the cold obsidian walls of the inescapable prison, feeing a faint heartache. Although Dream deserved to be trapped here, it was a long fall from the heights he’d stood at before, and the pain was obvious to see. “Well, that didn’t really work out,” she said, glancing at the notebook in her lap, open to a blank page. “We all came to save Tubbo and Tommy because of our attachment to them. That doesn’t seem like a weakness.”

“It’s still a weapon that was used against me,” Dream repeated bitterly. “That just proves why I was right! If I had made sure no one cared, then I wouldn’t be in here. I was right, I just didn’t do enough. I got cocky, careless, and everything fell apart. I was practically a _god_ , and now? Now I’m powerless.”

Puffy closed her eyes, taking a moment to center herself, trying to keep her calm in the face of an utterly broken man. “Dream? Can I ask you something?” She said carefully.

Dream looked over at her, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s the question?”

Puffy uncrossed her legs, leaning forward. “Why do you care do much about power?”

For a moment, silence settled over the room like a fine layer of dust. Puffy started to think, maybe, he’d gone back to ignoring her, like when she’d first come in to the prison. But then to he surprise, Dream spoke, and for the first time, he sounded soft and hurt and vulnerable.

“If I had enough power, I could fix everything.”

Puffy closed the notebook, tucking it in her coat pocket and focusing al of her attention on Dream. “Can you explain what you mean by fixing everything?” She said, not entirely sure whether he’d answer.

Dream nodded absently, not meeting her eyes. “When this server started, it was just me and my friends. Fighting monsters, building a house, dicking around in the woods. There weren’t any countries or wars. Nobody cared about taking sides, or killing each other, or some damn disks. Nothing mattered, and it was perfect.” For only a briefest moment, a weak, bittersweet smile crossed Dream’s face. Soon, though, it was gone. “We thought it would be fun to bring more people here. It seemed like a good idea. But things started changing. People kept coming, and everything kept changing, and it started gradually at first, but then Tommy showed up, and it was like a wildfire.” Dream’s hands were shaking, his grip so tight on the mask it seemed like it might crack. “And every time I tried to fix things, to make everyone just _fucking_ get along, it only got worse. This server was my _home_ , and they all turned it into a goddamn war zone. But no one was listening. If everyone just _let_ me have control, we could all be happy. But people only listen to power. There’s this thing Techno said—‘the only universal language is violence.’ So I was going to get my message across, one way or another.”

Puffy stood up from her chair, stepping closer to Dream, resting her hand against the cold prison bars. “That’s not how the world works, Dream,” she said gently. “You can’t force peace. I don’t think it’s possible to go back to the way your life was before.”

She thought she saw the faint glint of a tear fall against the mask, but she didn’t mention it, waiting quietly for him to find the words.

Eventually, he spoke, all the bravado and certainty drained from his voice, leaving only exhaustion and echoes of heartbreak. “I saw the house you made for me,” he said quietly. He swallowed, his breathing shaky as though fighting back tears. “I... it made me happy. And angry. And... I never went inside, because then it would feel real, and it would mean that even after fucking, everything, even after losing my two closest friends and causing hell for the server, someone who I’d only met was reaching out. And I didn’t deserve that, I _don’t_ deserve that. Even if I believe in what I did, even if I think I was right, I know I’ve done some horrible things to achieve it. And that house, it was like... like an invitation to stop. To let it go, to accept kindness and attachment.

“Going inside felt like surrendering. Like giving up everything I’d fought for. Like, despite trying to break off every attachment, new ones would always come,” Dream said, his voice breaking. “And what if I did? What if I stopped trying to fix the server? Wouldn’t that mean every war, every villain, ever tragedy that followed would be my fault?”

For the first time, the tension left him; not a moment of peace or relaxation, but slumped shoulders, as though faced with defeat for the first time. “When I heard you destroyed it, it was like a weight had been lifted. I never wanted anyone to show me empathy. I never wanted anyone to offer me a chance at ‘redemption,’ because I was right. I _am_ right.”

Puffy’s fingers curled around the iron bars, and she leaned her forehead against the cell door. She spoke softly, as though Dream might shatter like spun glass. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurting like this, duckling.”

She glanced back at the door, her chest tightening as she realized it was time to go. Visits couldn’t last too long, for security’s sake. Still, a part of her wanted to stay, to break through the iron bars and wrap Dream up in a tight hug. There was no denying that he had done horrible, evil things, and it wasn’t her place to forgive him; but god, she still couldn’t help but care. “I have to go now,” she said, stepping away from the bars. She turned to the door, grabbing the handle.

From behind her, she heard a soft and vulnerable voice, spoken like a question. “Puffy?”

She turned to face Dream, offering the best smile she could manage, although the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. “Yes, Dream?”

“Will you come back?” It was so quiet, so soft, like a little boy pleading for his parents to check for monsters under the bed. He was putting his mask back on, his hands shaking as he tied the strap behind his head.

Puffy nodded. “We can have a therapy session every week, if you like,” she offered gently. “I’m busy a lot of time taking care of Foolish and handling other therapy appointments, but I’ll come back as long as you want me to.”

It was so quiet she almost missed it when he said, softly, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading! i'm so glad i finally got to write some puffy, she's one of my fave members of the smp <3


End file.
